


The Reunion

by Mollyraesly



Series: Jonsa Drabbles [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-03-26 13:01:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13858290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mollyraesly/pseuds/Mollyraesly
Summary: A quick drabble about Jon's return to Winterfell.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be posting a bunch of drabbles this month. I blame but also thank dropofrum for this!! Also, thank you to the anon who asked me to write some more Jonsa.

 “Ghost, to me.”

 

Jon’s voice was commanding but not cruel. Daenerys could never be sure if she liked the gentleness he exuded or if she craved someone a little more forceful, like Khal Drogo had been.

 

The direwolf did not greet his master. If anything, he only moved closer to sniff Lady Stark’s gray skirts that were embroidered with white wolves and snowflakes.

 

Daenerys saw Jon’s lips twitch into a frown, and he let out a small sigh. He raised his head slowly to turn his soft gaze to his red-haired sister. He looked for the first time like he had come home, though they had reached Winterfell an hour before.

 

Daenerys did not know much about this frozen but nevertheless radiant woman before her. Tyrion spoke only in riddles about her, and Jon had said nothing at all.

 

But when he whispered “Sansa” in that feather-light voice, Daenerys felt her stomach plummet.

 

She had not known exactly what to expect on this journey to Winterfell, but she had never expected this.

 

The Lady Stark straightened her shoulders and squared her chin. “Jon.”

 

Daenerys turned from the iciness of her blue eyes to Jon’s look of anguish—and she realized why the King in the North never spoke about this sister to her. Men of war rarely discussed the lady loves they left behind.


	2. The Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys suspects Jon has not been honest with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t think I’d add to this, but I was inspired by all the comments and feedback. Expect a few more additions, all from Dany’s POV.

She watched his face throughout the feast, but he scarcely noticed the scrutiny. They had given her the seat of honor at the welcome feast, with Jon on her right and Lady Stark on her left. 

Dany experienced many northmen’s curious and lustful stares, but the woman to her left was the subject of Jon Snow’s hungry eyes.

He never asked Lady Stark to dance, though she was busy through the night showing courtesy to all the men who had. The North was a bleak place, Dany felt, and their mistress’s smile, though at times forced, brought the people cheer. 

Jon had not asked Dany to dance either, but he stood up when she did when the night had grow late and the wine had set in and offered to escort her to her assigned chambers. 

Daenerys had thought prior to their arrival that Jon might stay with her in her chambers. She wanted the intimacy of his body against hers—especially since the idea of a child had felt like a real possibility again. The loss of Viserion still pained her deeply, as it was so fresh. A babe to take his place would be a blessing she had not dared dream of until Jon had given her reason to hope again.

Now, she wondered what Jon would say if she asked—if he would find pleasure in her body as he had before, or if he would make his excuses. 

In her experience men loved women without actually caring about women. She had thought Jon different.

They stopped outside the door. 

“You never spoke about your sister while we were at Dragonstone—or afterward.”

“I thought Arya was dead.”

“That’s not the sister I was talking about.”

Jon blinked. “There were other things more pressing on my mind.”

“Really?” she asked. Dany pursed her lips. “You love her very much.”

“She is my sister. I am—I was—her king. It’s my duty to protect her.”

“You were watching her all night.”

It was dark, but Dany thought she could see a blush form on his cheeks.

“She has held the North for me while I was with you. I need to speak to her. About Winterfell, about your dragons, and about the Night King.”

“Surely not tonight. It is late, Jon.”

“Aye, tonight.” He sighed and swooped forward to kiss her lips. “Good night, my Queen. I hope you sleep well.”

He turned to leave her.

Daenerys called out to him, determined to have the last word. “Tell Lady Stark that I wish to see her in my solar tomorrow morning. Alone.”


	3. The First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa comes to meet with Daenerys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried really hard for Sansa's role playing to shine through. I hope you see it!

Daenerys smoothed our the lines of her white dress across her knees after she heard the knock on the door.

She arranged her hands in her lap and then nodded to Missendei, who went to let in their guest.

“Lady Stark, welcome.”

If Lady Stark was surprised by being welcomed into her mother’s old chambers, her face did not let on.

The northern woman was wearing a thick black cloak over a dark gray dress. Her hair was arranged in what seemed to be the northern style—a little informal for Daenerys’s taste. She had not kept her hair so loose since before she married Drogo.

Her eyes looked tired. Daenerys was itching to ask her how late Jon had stayed with her the night before, but she held her tongue.

Even with tired eyes, Lady Stark was beautiful. Tall for a woman, with perhaps too much iciness in her demeanor. But very beautiful.

Daenerys told her as much as she gestured for her to take the seat opposite her own.

Lady Stark sat. “That is very kind of you to say, your Grace. But my beauty is no match for yours.”

_Did Jon think so?_

“Nonsense. I am sure half the men of the North are hoping to marry you.”

“For my claim, perhaps,” Lady Stark allowed.

“Yes. Men always want power. Even if it means stealing it from the women they claim to love.”

“Do you speak from experience, your Grace?”

Daenerys frowned. “My brother sold me off to Khal Drogo when I was barely flowered. When he died, his people left me for dead. I have been beaten and raped, underestimated and betrayed. And yet, here I am.”

Lady Stark’s face gave away nothing. At last she spoke. “My brother told me that he trusts you—that he has pledged himself and the North to you.”

“He has.” Daenerys studied her face. “I take it you do not agree.”

Lady Stark lowered her chin. “I am only Lady of Winterfell, your Grace. I must follow my king.”

_He cannot be a king so long as I am Queen._

“And what did Jon say about me?”

“He said that I will come to see you for who you are.”


	4. The Great Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visitor comes to Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, everyone! It's been fun imagining this from Dany's perspective. I actually think she's a very interesting and complex character. I just think she's not a good fit for Jon or for Westeros.

When Tyrion said they had to get to the Great Hall, Daenerys was concerned that she was going to have to listen to more speeches by Lord Glover and that little Lady Mormont with the stubborn scowl.  
  
But the Northerners present in the Hall looked just as confused as to why they were meeting as she felt.  
  
Daenerys looked for Jon, but he was in deep conversation with Brienne of Tarth, though he kept glancing at Lady Stark beside the giant woman.

_Stop looking at her._  
  
“Why have you brought me here?” Daenerys demanded from Tyrion. “There is no meeting scheduled. I was going to spend the morning with Drogon and Rhaegal.”  
  
Tyrion started to answer, but a horn sounded, and the great doors opened to reveal Stark soldiers and Jaime Lannister dressed in black.  
  
“Jaime,” Tyrion breathed beside her.  
  
The Hall was filled with noise and shouts of “Kingslayer.”  
  
Daenerys straightened her spine. The last time she had seen this man, he had been trying to murder her. She would show him the justice he deserved.  
  
For her and her father.

Perhaps she would see Drogon and Rhaegal this morning anyway. She would enjoy listening to this man’s screams. 

“Lannister,” she said to him harshly. “Why have you come here?”

“To bend the knee.”

Daenerys had not expected that. She turned to look at a concerned Tyrion and then at Jon, who looked suspicious. 

“Then you may proceed,” Daenerys told him. She took a step toward him and smoothed out her skirts.

Jaime Lannister advanced, but did not kneel before her as Dany expected.  
  
Instead, he sank to the ground in front of Lady Stark.

Daenerys felt the dragon within her quake with rage.  _I will burn them both._

He looked at Brienne, who had a tight grip on her sword. “I am here to fulfill the promise I made to your late Lady Mother, Catelyn Stark,” Lannister said, his attention back on Lady Stark.  
  
“She told me to find you and your sister and bring them home to her.”  
  
“Why didn’t you?” Jon’s younger sister asked, seeming to come out of nowhere.  
  
“He failed, my lady,” Brienne answered for Lannister stiffly. “Just as I did.”  
  
“Why are you here?” Lady Stark asked.  
  
“Cersei will not help you against the army of the dead. She planned to betray you before your envoys even left King’s Landing. My sister will not help, but I will. Please, my lady. Let me pledge you my sword. I did not keep my oath before, but I will now.” He took a deep breath. “Lady Sansa of House Stark, I will shield your back, and keep your counsel, and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the old gods and the new.”  
  
“Sansa,” hissed Jon, who had the look of murder in his eyes.  
  
Sansa ignored him and turned to look at her younger sister, who only arched an eyebrow, and then at her crippled brother, who nodded solemnly. Her eyes sought Brienne next, and then at last she turned to the man at her feet.  
  
“I vow—“ she began.  
  
“Sansa,” Jon interrupted through gritted teeth.  
  
But again Lady Stark ignored him.  “—that you will always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table. I pledge to ask no service of you that may bring you dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new. Arise, Ser Jaime.”  
  
Jon stormed out of the Hall.


	5. The Command

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt really down yesterday because I read YouTube comments that a GoT youtuber (a non-shipper) posted about a possible Jon-Dany-Sansa love triangle. The hatred of Sansa is so violent in some of these comments. It was really painful to see. One of the reasons I hope that Sansa becomes Queen (either of Winterfell or all of Westeros) is that I think it will force people to rethink how they see her character. And maybe confront some of the internalized misogyny they feel.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

When she had been starving in the Red Waste, Daenerys knew she had to be strong for her people, even though her insides ached with every hunger pain.  
  
The paltry meals they ate in Winterfell’s Great Hall would have seemed like opulent feasts to her then. Northern food was much different than she was used to eating in Essos. But she liked it better than eating only horse meat.  
  
Meals, however, had been tense of late. For now, Jon had convinced the Northmen that she deserved the pride of place at the Lord’s table. And though they addressed her as “your Grace,” they still did not call her “my Queen.”  
  
Jon assured her that Northerners were stubborn and would take account of her good heart soon enough.  
  
But lately he was in no mood to encourage them. He spent his meals moodily staring at Jaime Lannister, who sat beside Lady Stark. Whenever he heard Lady Stark laugh, he would stab his fork into his meat and sulk.  
  
With Lady Stark on her left so engaged and Jon busy glowering, Daenerys was left without a conversation partner.  
  
A Queen should not suffer to be ignored.  
  
Dany turned to Jon. “You must resolve this.”  
  
Jon grumbled.  
  
“You said we need allies.”  
  
“We do not need him.”  
  
“He has a Valyrian steel sword and a powerful name. We cannot afford to alienate him. Not now. I will give him justice soon enough, but for now, make him an ally.”  
  
Daenerys took a deep breath. “And speak with her.”  
  
_ Just do not speak of love. _  
  
Jon’s brow furrowed, but then he nodded and sighed.  
  
She took a sip of wine and hoped she had made the right decision.  
  
Jon’s fingers stroked her hand beneath the table, and she felt her tension ease.


	6. The Ramparts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany watches training in the yard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who is still reading!

Daenerys stood on the ramparts and watched the action taking place down in the courtyard.  
  
Jon was helping to train some of the Northern children to wield swords. He modeled to them the motions of parrying and how to defend an attack.  
  
She did not know why he insisted on training the northern boys and girls. They would not survive in a fight. One Dothraki could kill them all before one of them even picked up his sword.  
  
Nevertheless, Dany admired the lines of his body as he moved. He was covered in that heavy cloak he never seemed to take off, but she could still imagine the corded muscles underneath. A chill tickled down her spine.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Lady Stark, who was also watching the scene below with Jon’s other sister, the one who wore pants and had a dagger at her waist. The younger one spotted her gaze and arched an eyebrow.  
  
She was a frightening girl. Daenerys did not like her. She made her feel uneasy.  
  
Lady Stark bowed her head in greeting, and offered her a wave. Then the two sisters went down the stairs to join the training yard.  
  
Daenerys frowned. Lady Stark was all courtesy and never said anything she did not like. But still Dany did not trust her.  
  
She could tell that Lady Stark and Jon seemed to have overcome their rift since the arrival of Jaime Lannister. But Jon still stiffened every time his name was mentioned, and his eyes flashed whenever the man spoke.  
  
Daenerys wondered if Jon would kill him for her if she asked him to. She had not and would not forgive the man who murdered her father and tried to do the same to her. If he did not die in this war, he would be dead soon enough.  
  
And then she would rule with Jon at her side. There would be no more questions; he would have to do as she commanded.  
  
But for now, she had to leave Jon where he was and go inside. She could not stay outside in the freezing temperatures of the North for long.  
  
As she turned, she spotted a large man dressed all in black with his hand full of scrolls. She had seen this man talking with Jon earlier. They seemed close. “Hello,” Daenerys called out to him.  
  
The man turned red, bowed clumsily, and then scurried away from her.  
  
Daenerys frowned again.  
  
“That one’s not going to kneel before you, Dragon Queen.”  
  
Daenerys looked up to see the red haired wildling. Giantsbane was his name, though Dany did not know why.  
  
“He will,” Daenerys replied confidently.  
  
The giant man laughed. “No, he won’t. That man is Samwell Tarly. You burned his father and brother alive at the Reach.”  
  
Daenerys paused. “I didn’t know.”  
  
“You burn a lot of men alive?”  
  
“If I have to.”  
  
The giant man grumbled under his breath. “My people think fire is lucky—that gingers like me are kissed by fire. Makes us beautiful.”  
  
 _Did Jon thinks so?_  She had heard murmurs of a dead wildling lover, but there was no talk of the color of her hair.  
  
Daenerys looked back down to the training yard at where Lady Stark stood. Jon kept glancing at her instead of the practicing children. Her red hair stood out among all the gray and black.  
  
“Fire is red,” Daenerys told him. “But so is blood. And I will use both to take back what is mine.”  
  
This time the giant man did not laugh.


	7. The King's Chambers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys seeks out Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tough one to do!

On Dragonstone, Jon had sometimes seemed like his mind was elsewhere, but he sought her company often. Because he needed something from her. Because he saw something in her. Because—she  _hoped_ —he had come to love her.  
  
On the boat back from King’s Landing, she had been Jon’s priority. He almost never left her side. He spent every night in her bed.  
  
Now, at Winterfell, she saw Jon frequently but almost never alone. They did not visit each other’s chambers, for he insisted that while the Northmen were still getting over their initial anger at him for bending the knee it would be better for them not to know that they were sharing a bed.

Tyrion tried to distract her, to encourage her to make envoys to the stubborn Northmen, to talk strategy now that his traitor brother had revealed Cersei was not coming.  
  
Daenerys was not surprised that Cersei wanted to deceive them, but she was still irked by the way that Jaime Lannister had swept into the Great Hall and pledged his sword to Sansa Stark.  
  
But what should she have expected from a Lannister?  
  
Daenerys only wanted Jon, Northmen be damned. Tonight she was determined to see him. She went to his chambers and opened the door.  
  
He was not alone. His younger brother was sitting in his wheelchair beside the fire, speaking softly to Jon. Daenerys could not hear what he was saying. Jon’s lips were turned into a deep frown.  
  
The boy looked over at her immediately. Daenerys did not like the way his expressionless eyes took her in. He unnerved her even more than Jon’s pesky little sister.  
  
“My Queen,” Jon said as he stood up.  
  
“I did not know you would have company,” Daenerys said.  
  
At least it was not Lady Stark or her new sworn-shield.  
  
Jon patted his brother on the shoulder. “Bran was just leaving.” He guided his brother’s wheelchair to the door. “We will speak later,” Jon promised him.  
  
“Yes,” Bran agreed. “There is still much to say.”  
  
His eyes lingered on Daenerys in a way that unsettled her.  
  
Luckily, Jon closed the door and left them alone. He then turned to Daenerys with a sigh. “It’s late. What can I do for you, my Queen?”  
  
Daenerys frowned. This formality was not what she wanted. Not when she had taken down half her braids and left her rooms in only a silk dress beneath her cloak.  
  
She wanted Jon’s hands to be tearing that silk already.  
  
But he looked weary. Perhaps he just needed encouragement.  
  
Tyrion said men facing war wanted nothing so much as a good fuck to remind them what life was worth.  
  
Daenerys stepped closer to him and went to remove his doublet.  
  
Jon took a step back. “Not tonight.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“I’m tired.”  
  
“We can be quick.” She had waited too long for anything else. She needed him inside her.  
  
He sighed. “There is much to do tomorrow. Bran says the army of the dead is coming sooner than anticipated. I must rest.”  
  
Daenerys went to kiss him. He stood back again.  
  
“Not tonight,” he repeated softly. “I can’t.”  
  
Daenerys fumed. “Am I your Queen?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Have I not given you everything you’ve asked for?”  
  
“You have. We in the North are so grateful. We cannot win this war without you.”  
  
“But what about you, Jon? You are what I care about, not the North. Do you not love me?”  
  
Jon swallowed. “I do.” He kissed her fiercely, his lips moving almost angrily against hers.  
  
Daenerys went back to untying his doublet. She had it half-removed before his hands found hers.  
  
 “I love you, but the Night King is coming. We must be ready.”

 

 


	8. The Godswood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys decides to sort things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!

They had not properly lain together in two weeks. The last time she had gone to his chambers, he had made her peak with his fingers but then refused to let her give him pleasure in return.

“I am tired, your Grace. I’m afraid I would only disappoint you.”

Jon had looked tired. He seemed to grow more weary every day. But he had not avoided disappointing her.

Everything about the North disappointed her. In truth, since landing at Dragonstone—since returning to Westeros—she had felt disappointed. Viserys had not prepared her for this. He had always spoken of their home with such certainty.

Daenerys did not feel any more at home here than she had in Essos. But it did not matter. She had come too far not to see this through. These kingdoms were her right by birth. Perhaps she would feel at home when she finally sat on the Iron Throne.

In the mean time, she needed Jon to want her again.

Grey Worm said that in the mornings he saw Jon go to the Godswood. Daenerys had never been there before; she had little use for the gods, the old or the new. She did not pray for change; she took what was hers.

Fire and blood were her gods.

Fire and blood and dragons.

But she went to the Godswood to seek out her lover, and she found him with his.

No, she knew Jon Snow most likely had not lain with Lady Stark. Dany had her spies stationed at both of their chambers.

But his love for Lady Stark showed in everything he did. His jealousy, his threats, his childish sulking, his refusal to ever take off that damn cloak, his constant need for her approval, and his boyish hope to be her hero. But most of all in his gentleness toward her.

It seemed lately that the more viciously Jon had kissed Dany, the more feather-light his touches had been with his sister.

He loved her. Dany could not deny it anymore. She had thought she could secure him to her through sex, but that did not seem to be enough.

And perhaps he thought of his sister when he moved inside of her.

Her own brother would have found this entertaining; he would have laughed and said Jon was finally proving himself to be like a dragon.

But Dany was not amused at being deceived. She wanted to taste fire and blood.

“My Queen,” Jon greeted her when she drew closer.

“Leave us,” Daenerys said through gritted teeth. “I wish to speak to your sister alone.”


	9. The Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany confronts Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to post this chapter because it has been weighing on me. I have re-written it at least twenty times, and I can't keep fussing over it!

She waited until Jon was out of sight.  
  
“He never mentioned you on Dragonstone,” she began. “Not once.”  
  
Lady Stark’s lips twitched. But her face revealed nothing else. “Jon doesn’t talk much. I’m sure you’ve noticed, your Grace.”  
  
“He speaks often enough with you now.” Daenerys tried to keep the bitterness from seeping into her words. For once, she wanted to beat Lady Stark at the game of manners. She wanted to prove that she could wear courtesy like steel, as well.  
  
But she also wanted to strangle the woman before her and watch her kissed-by-fire hair burn in flames.  
  
Lady Stark fidgeted with her hands. “I help him with the Northmen and with preparing provisions. There is not enough food or weapons, your Grace. Not since the Reach was burned.”  
  
Yes, when Jaime Lannister had tried to murder her and then she had to make an example of that large man’s father and brother who refused to kneel. “We will make do. Wars are not won without sacrifice.”  
  
Lady Stark paused, her blue eyes calculating. “Of course. You’re right, your Grace, and I know that you and others are doing much more important work than counting grain and sewing.”  
  
“You should leave that busywork to your servants and focus more on rallying the North to my cause.”  
  
“They will only listen to their king.”  
  
“Jon is needed at my side.”  
  
Lady Stark sighed. “Your Grace, I cannot swing a sword, and I cannot be their king. I must do what I can to make provisions for our people.”  
  
“Is that all you and Jon discuss? Food and weapons—that keeps you both up whispering late into the night?”  
  
The redhead studied her. “Your Grace, preparing for war has required us to stay in communication, but Jon and I have never been close. We argue more often than not—mainly about supplies and rations. If you want to know what’s inside his heart, you must ask Arya. She is more Jon’s sister than I will ever be.”  
  
The sister with the dagger at her hip and treachery in her gaze. Daenerys frowned. “I’m like to lose a limb if I do so. Your sister is a killer.”  
  
Lady Stark’s eyes flashed. “My sister has killed fewer men than your dragons have, your Grace. And not nearly so many children.”  
  
Daenerys fumed. “My dragons are the only thing that can save you from the dead, Lady Stark. I would not insult them or their mother.”  
  
“No,” Lady Stark agreed coolly. “That would not be wise.”  
  
“But it is not surprising. Your own father helped to plot to have me killed in Essos.”  
  
“Your time in the North has taught you very little about my father. Or the Stark line.”  
  
“I know that the last king in your Stark line bent the knee to my ancestor, yet you still have not.”  
  
“The last King in the North was my brother Robb, and he did not kneel,” hissed Lady Stark.  
  
“Jon did.”  
  
Lady Stark’s face fell.  
  
“He swore himself to me,” Daenerys pressed. “He pledged to see me on the Iron Throne, and he offered me the North as aid. And every night as he moved inside of me, he called me his Queen.”  
  
Lady Stark turned to stare at the red leaves of the heart tree before them.  
  
And Daenerys felt victorious—like she had been crowned Queen already.  
  
“Jon is not a Stark,” Daenerys told her. “He’s a bastard. But he will be my consort and take my name when this is all done. We will live in King’s Landing, and I will rule as your Queen. And you will stay here in this frozen North, and you will do as I say. You will marry whom I say, you will gather armies for me when I say, and you will kneel when I say.”  
  
Lady Stark turned to face her. Her eyes were colder than ice, and Daenerys was struck by how very tall she was.  
  
“Jon might not be a Stark in name, but I am, your Grace. I do not take kindly to being threatened in my own home.”  
  
“Your home for now.” Daenerys grabbed Lady Stark by the arm. “Don’t think I won’t take it away, too, as my home was taken from me.”  
  
“Where is your compassion then?” asked Lady Stark.   
  
“Wars are not won by feeling sorry for one’s rivals,” Daenerys told her.  
  
Lady Stark removed her arm from Dany’s grip. “Your Grace, I am not your rival—“  
  
Daenerys saw red. “Do not lie to my face! I see you putting your hooks in him and turning him against me. You want him for yourself.”  
  
“No, Jon is like my brother, I would never—he loves you—he told me—“  
  
_If only._  
  
“Perhaps he did. Perhaps he does. Regardless, he will marry me, and together we will have children.”  
  
“I thought your dragons were your only children.”  
  
“We will have heirs,” Daenerys insisted hotly. “I will rule with Jon at my side, and our children will rule after me. There’s nothing you can do to prevent it. And if you try, I will ensure you never see him or this castle again.”  
  
“Your Grace, you are mistaken. I have never—“  
  
“Never? That seems unlikely. Jon was slow to pursue me, despite my advances. And even the most self-assured men require encouragement.” She thought of Daario but pushed his face out of her mind. “I’ve seen the way Jon looks at you. That is not how a man looks at his sister.”  
  
“As I said, we’ve never been close—“  
  
“His feelings for you are but smoke that will soon become ash.” Daenerys took a deep breath to swallow the lie. “I refuse to let you have him for your little pack, no matter how many wolves you embroider into his doublet and small clothes.”  
  
Lady Stark bristled. “Wolves are like dragons, your Grace. They are beasts, not pets. They do not always do as you say.”  
  
“My dragons listen to their mother. Jon will do the same.”  
  
“Jon will never be a dragon. He belongs to the North as our King.”  
  
“Jon will never be a true king so long as I am Queen.”  
  
“Then I expect he will be relieved. My father always thought of ruling as a great burden that requires you to shoulder all your people’s cares in addition to your own.”  
  
Daenerys crossed her arms. “What do you know of ruling?”  
  
“Much less than you do,” replied Lady Stark immediately. “But I have been to Court.”  
  
“Yes. You spent months there with the Lannisters. Tyrion told me that it turned you clever.”  
  
“That was kind of him to say, but I’ve always been a slow to learn most lessons worth knowing,” Lady Stark replied.  
  
“He warned me that you learned to play the game from his sister.”  
  
“I was a prisoner in King’s Landing, your Grace. I dreamed of little more than heroes and songs to pass the time.”  
  
“What do you dream of now?”  
  
“In truth, your Grace, I do not dream. I wish only to survive.”  
  
“And nothing else?”  
  
“Many in my family have died. I would like those who are alive to remain so.”  
  
“You say nothing of love,” Daenerys prodded. “Or of marriage.”  
  
“I have already been married,” Lady Stark countered. “It is a blessing I hope the gods do not bestow upon me again.” She straightened her gloves. “Your Grace, you have no reason to fear me, a half-sister already twice married with only scars and no children to show from it. If Jon looks at me, as you insist he does, it is only with eyes of pity, not of desire.”  
  
“But—“  
  
“Say, for sake of argument, I did desire him as a lover. Surely you don’t discount your own beauty and talents so greatly that you think Jon would turn to his half-sister’s bed over that of a future queen. What would that say about you?”  
  
Daenerys nearly swallowed her tongue.  
  
“And if, indeed, he wanted me back and had no intention of marrying you, what would you do? Kill me?” She paused. “No, I don’t think so. You know you can’t kill me and still rule Westeros. If you could, I suspect you would have tried to do so already. The North would turn against you, and then how would you get your crown?”  
  
“I could leave the North and bring my dragons with me.”  
  
“But Jon would stay here and fight. He’d likely die.”  
  
“He’d come with me,” Daenerys argued.  
  
“It would not be the first time he put love over duty,” Lady Stark allowed. “Though it is a risk. Do you want to force him to make that choice? Compel him to give up his home, his family, his people—to be your Queen’s consort? Do you think you would be enough to throw the rest away?”

Daenerys hesitated. She was not sure what to think. Her uncertainty must have showed, for a glint appeared in Lady Stark’s eye.

The redhead gathered up her skirts. “If that is all, your Grace, I have work to do. Someone must tend to the sewing and grain.”

Daenerys frowned. “So you still deny that you have feelings for him?”

Lady Stark paused. “Jon is Jon, your Grace. I trust him. That is enough for me. I hope it is enough for you. Speak to my sister, if you need to know more. Or speak to Sam. He is Jon’s best friend. Perhaps he can overlook what you have done.”   
  
After a perfunctory curtsy, she turned and left the Godswood, leaving Daenerys alone and feeling like a queen cast down.  



	10. The Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany leaves for the war.

She had barely grown accustomed to Winterfell by the time they had to leave it.  
  
After consulting with the youngest Stark, Jon was certain that if they waited any longer they would not be able to ward off the army of the dead. He said it was better to meet them in the field.  
  
Tyrion agreed—a rare thing. And Daenerys had given her consent. The sooner she defeated the dead, the sooner she could claim the Iron Throne. She was not worried about her own safety; her dragons would protect her.  
  
But she did worry for Grey Worm, Ser Jorah, and Jon. It was a relief that she would be on the battlefield with them rather than stuck in the castle with nothing to do but wonder and worry.  
  
That horrendous task fell to Lady Stark. All her guards were leaving her: Brienne, Jaime, the Hound, and even her sister. For company, she would have only Tyrion and her strange brother.  
  
Daenerys would have pitied her if she did not hate her.  
  
Since their talk in the Godswood, Lady Stark and Jon been more distant than ever. But Dany had no way of knowing if her words had really had their desired effect.  
  
And when the time came for them to say their goodbyes, she knew that despite their recent distance Jon’s love for his sister had only seemed to grow more ardent.  
  
She felt a sting as she watched him reach up to cradle her face in his hands and plant a kiss to her forehead. He looked close to tears, but so did she.  
  
Lady Stark kissed his hands and whispered something to him Daenerys could not hear.  
  
Seeing them together, Daenerys felt like a voyeur imposing on a most intimate moment between two lovers. The very worst part of her hoped that Lady Stark would die before the war was done.  
  
She drew closer to them and was surprised to hear them whispering about peas and onions.  
  
“Jon, we must go,” she said. With a deep breath, she turned to face her rival. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Stark. We will be back when the dead are gone.”  
  
Lady Stark stepped away from Jon and toward Daenerys. She dipped into a deep curtsy. “I pray for your safe return, my Queen.”  
  
“You do?” Daenerys asked, genuinely taken aback.  
  
Lady Stark smiled demurely and nodded. “Just as I pray for your rule.”  
  
When they departed but minutes later, with Jon at her side, she saw him turn around on his horse and stare at her, as though trying to commit her face to memory.  
  
Daenerys sighed as she remembered Jon’s back the day he had left her at Dragonstone for the North.  
  
What had been his final words?  
  
 _I wish you good fortune in the wars to come._  
  
At the time, she had been too distracted by Ser Jorah’s obvious love for her to reflect on the formality of that goodbye and the perfunctory way he had left her behind and accepted his possible death.  
  
But now, she longed for sad smiles, long sighs, and whispers of peas and onions. And she prepared herself for a silent ride.  
  
Men of war rarely discussed the lady loves they left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading! I really appreciate it. Reading your comments has been so enjoyable over the last month. And it's a real joy to come full circle with this series of drabbles!


End file.
